


7KPP Week 2018

by firetan



Series: 7KPP Event Collections [2]
Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: (Heavy On The 'Implied' There), 7KPP Week, Bisexual Character, Blind Character, Extended Demo Spoilers, Family, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Minor Character Death, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Spoilers, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-18 13:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13682856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firetan/pseuds/firetan
Summary: Chapter List:Day 1 (Heart) — Lady Melinoë of Revaire remembers her late husband.Day 2 (Fear) — It is, Kite thinks, very hard to be truly brave in the Courts of Corval.Day 3 (Dawn/Midnight) — Yué-Lian knew the road forward was never going to be easy.Day 4 (Nostalgia) — When the Princess was young, and neither of them had to worry about things like duty and fate, they had played hide-and-seek among the roses.Day 5 (Family) — Piracy can a family make, but often a rather interesting one. Five examples.Day 6 (Fairytale AU) — Unfortunately, Happily Ever After was never intended to be as simple as rescuing a princess from a tower.Day 7 (Winter/Spring) — Those who think they know the seasons, in fact, know very little at all.





	1. Day 1 — Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 (Heart) — Lady Melinoë of Revaire remembers her late husband.

It was funny, in an odd sort of way.

Melinoë lifted the teacup carefully, fingers idly following the patterns of the inlay as she breathed in the faint aroma rising from the drink. Redflower tea again, it seemed. Really, she wasn't sure whether to be flattered or concerned at the amount Jasper seemed to think she needed. The care was nice — it had been a long while since she'd been on the receiving end of such, after all — but it wasn't as though her particular disability meant she lost energy more quickly than other people. She was blind, not without a leg. If anything, in her opinion, not having to deal with visual stimuli meant she had more energy and attention to direct elsewhere.

A small nose pressed against her leg, cool even through the layers of her skirts, and she smiled. "Jasper, I don't suppose you've also brought tea for Astra, have you?"

"My lady, you've been here for five weeks now." Her butler's voice, a mild tenor somewhere above her left shoulder, sounded mildly put-off. "I would hardly be half a butler if I forgot your companion." Even though his face wasn't visible, Melinoë would wager she could hear a smile poking at the edges of his words. "Though he cannot drink your tea with you, I have brought him an equivalent dish."

She took a sip of her tea in order to keep herself from giggling. "You know, I do think he likes you better than he likes me! And after all our years together— _ah_ , the tragedy!"

"I am sure that is not the case, my lady."

Melinoë hummed, setting down the teacup in favor of returning to her braille-board and notes. "It's certainly not unreasonable. He's got a big heart, after all, and lots of love to go around. I know I certainly wasn't his favorite person back home!" Her hands stilled for a moment. "Those would have been the scullery cook, and my late husband Alexander."

To anyone else, the moment when Jasper paused and stilled might have been imperceptible — but Melinoë prided herself on the acuity of her remaining senses, and she'd spent five weeks observing Jasper just as much as he'd been observing her. They both knew it, and neither of them cared. The careful composure of his voice, when it reappeared once more, only went to show that one of them, at least, felt this was a topic that needed to be broached with caution.

"You do not often speak of the Baron, my Lady."

By her feet, Astra made an endearing huffing noise as he ate whatever Jasper had brought him today. "I don't? I hadn't realized." Her fingertips glided from letter to letter, poking in the stylus as quickly as she could without losing her precision. "I suppose it's simply become a habit, from my time in court. Not many like to hear a widow speak of her Lord husband after his passing — at least, not when they suspect her of being the reason for it."

Jasper made a funny, breathy noise that Melinoë knew to be a very soft sigh, and she laughed behind one hand. "Yes, I know. But since that is the past, would you like to hear about him?" She turned her head briefly in the direction of his voice to smile. "I'm sure the history you record, at the very least, might be interested."

"My Lady," This time, the huff of his breath was heavier and sharper, but the tone of his voice indicated that it was with amusement rather than irritation, "I would be honored to hear of him even without the obligations of my oath."

And if there was something a little bit soft in his voice, let it not be said that she didn't echo it with her own response. "Of course you would. Now, where should I start?"

It was easy for the memories to return — though they were a few years old, each one shone as bright as the stars (or so Melinoë assumed) in the dark caverns of her mind. Her fingers, stilled from their previous task, could almost feel the picture of Alexander's face — the laugh lines gathering at his eyes, the strong bridge of his nose, the sharpness of his jawline. If she thought hard enough, she could remember the smells of their home from when he still lived — leather and forest, something a bit doggy and something pleasantly spicy.

"My Lady?"

_Had she drifted off?_ "Pardon me, I was just remembering. You know, Alexander greatly loved to ride."

"Ride?" Jasper's voice was still above and behind her, and she sighed softly.

"Do pull up a chair, Jasper. It's hardly going to bite you, and you know how I feel about people speaking from needless positions." There was that huff again, the one that meant amusement, and the quiet sound of creaking and shuffling beside her. Astra whined briefly at the intrusion upon his personal space, before sneezing and flopping onto Melinoë's feet. Judging by her butler's barely-cut-off snort, he too had been demoted to doggy backrest.

More contented with the arrangement, Melinoë smiled and continued. "Yes, ride. He never was one for hunting — game wasn't abundant on our lands, and our countrymen needed what resources they could get — but Alex loved his horses. The first night of our marriage, you know what he had us do instead of consummate?" Leaving no room for the possibility of discomfort — yes, she was blind; no, that didn't mean she hadn't had sex with her husband, _next question please_ — she continued on brightly. "He took me out to the stables and introduced me to _every_ horse on the property — all twenty-seven of them, broodmares and foals and racers alike! He insisted on making sure to find the perfect horse for me as soon as possible."

"Did he?"

She giggled. "Not that night, and it seemed such a disappointment to him. But we went out the next day once more, to meet everyone again, and eventually we found one of the older mares to be of the right temperament. Alex was absolutely delighted — he almost took us out onto the grounds then and there, before the stablehands helped remind him that I'd never ridden alone before." The sound of her husband's voice, rueful embarrassment tempered only by the grace of age, echoed in the back corners of her mind. "So, of course, he insisted on having me learn."

Beside her, Jasper's breathing sounded soft and even, and she felt as though he might be smiling ever so slightly. "I can't imagine that was easy, my Lady."

"Oh, definitely not!" Melinoë laughed. "I'm not embarrassed to admit that I fell off quite a number of times, but both Alex and the stablehands were very patient with me, and Edelweiss — the mare — was a perfect saint. Gentle as a dove, and I'd swear she could almost tell where to go even without me guiding her." She was still waiting back in Namaire, and Melinoë wondered if she'd see her again once this was all over.

Jasper's voice was tinged with something gentle. "I'm glad to hear that. Your husband sounds like a good man."

He was. Or, had been. "Yes, I suppose so. I'm not entirely sure how he survived living under the current rule, to be honest — I know no-one would have suspected it, but he had a very kind heart. The first person to ever look at me and not see something less, simply because I saw less, you know?" Careful fingers covered hers — long and precise, hands that would be well-suited to the piano or to writing — and when she raised her free hand to brush it across her eyes, Melinoë realized she was crying. "I still love him, of course — it's _silly_ , loving a dead man, and yet somehow—"

"There is, I've found, little practicality in the workings of the human heart." Something in Jasper's voice sounded tight, as though if she put her fingers to his throat she'd be able to feel the tension there. "I imagine it is difficult, to be here and still in love with his memory."

By her feet, Astra makes a 'whuff' sound, and Jasper's hand is gentle where it touches hers. "And yet, that's the wonderful thing about hearts."

"What is, my Lady?"

Melinoë smiles. The room is warm.

"They always have room for more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this first chapter, do be aware that I am not blind, nor do I know anyone who is. If you find anything inaccurate or offensive about the way I've written Melinoë's POV, please let me know so I can fix it! :)


	2. Day 2 — Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 (Fear) — It is, Kite thinks, very hard to be truly brave in the Courts of Corval.

Beneath the sun-bright smiles and carefree obfuscations, Kite isn’t a brave person.

It was hard to be, growing up in the Courts — too much time spent fearing every draped cloth and poisonous smile, likely, or too many years spent desperately announcing themself in order to create even a modicum of security for their mother. (Never themself — their mother came first and foremost, always). Very few people in the Courts were truly brave, and a round estimate of zero were fearless, and that’s just what it was to live in Corval.

Of course, nobody let a little fear or cowardice get in the way of their survival — one didn’t need bravery to avoid poisons and learn double-meanings and tear opponents' reputations and livelihoods apart — and Kite was no different. They laughed and played with the other children while looking over their shoulder at every twitch or rustle, they planned and created and smiled with reckless abandon, and they swung through the air suspended by bolts of silk in order to pretend they could fly ( _in order to pretend they weren’t afraid of returning to the ground_ ).

There was a certain poetry to it all, in some ways. A balance that everyone had to maintain between their cowardice and their determination, a sort of odd survival tightrope that could be cut at any moment by scissors hidden in the shadows.

And so, beneath it all, Kite is afraid of the Summit.

Oh, it’s a necessary risk, and the part of them that flies on silk is excited for the thrill of it, but it’s a danger nonetheless. Too many unknown probabilities and variables, too many people and places they don’t know like the back of their hands and can’t predict or plan for. In short, it’s a festival of liabilities.

But then there’s the Duke, tall and quiet and always retreating into the shadows in a way that seems half-familiar. Lyon, Kite thinks after their first meeting, is something of a gentle giant (like those in the fairytales their mother used to read). It isn’t until the second time they seek him out (for just as much as they are afraid, Kite is also burning with curiosity) that they realize just how different his world is from theirs.

Conversation, in the Courts back home, is always built three layers deep, with grains of truth and falsehood constantly intertwined like the Weaver’s greatest masterpieces. Here, with Lyon, it is straightforward and honest and everything a part of Kite has longed for all their life. There’s no need to hide intentions with this sort of talk, and they nearly begin to cry when they mention pronouns and he accepts theirs as though it’s something to be recognized, something _normal_.

(At home, the only ones who don’t call Kite ‘she’ are their mother and Princess Sina. Princess Constance tries, but it’s all to clear that she doesn’t think much of it. The rest of the Court simply pat their head and call them ‘she’ and murmur behind too-long veils ‘ _just how long will this foolish child last_ ’).

But here? Here is a person who immediately choses to accept and respect them as they are — well, at least in that regard. When the evening winds to a close, Lyon vanishes into the shelves and reappears with a thin book on gender that, he mutters, “might be of interest” to them. Kite feels like they might burst from joy, and around them the night seems to shine.

As the weeks pass, as they both unwittingly worm their ways into each other’s hearts, Kite notices more and more. That he’s a bit awkward and a bit shy, or that the antisocial exterior betrays a deep kindness underneath. That he can’t stand the awful, poorly-written romance novels the Court loves to titter about, but he’ll push through them anyways if he thinks there’s something to be learned from the writing within.

They notice that he’s awful at taking care of people (himself included), but not entirely terrible at supporting someone who needs it. That it’s entirely safe to lean against his side and look out at the ocean, one of his arms draped over their shoulders and the absolute faith that he means them no harm.

And when they are torn from the sight of broken wood and still-painted splinters (the small part of their mind not in shock wondered if it would have been the blunt force or the too-big splinters that killed them, and knowing that either way they wouldn't have died quickly), pulled into an embrace so tight it hurts as he very nearly falls to his knees in front of them and doesn’t bother to disguise his weeping, they realize he’s just as afraid as they are. Maybe more. Not afraid for himself, but for _them_ — and that's something one never finds in the Courts. Not like this.

Kite thinks, if this the case, they can definitely bring themself to be braver for his sake. Whatever he’s afraid of, they’ll protect him from it, help him overcome it.

Maybe, just maybe, they'll be able to support each other and uplift each other to the heights that fear would otherwise render inaccessible.

They aren’t courageous or brave, but for him? For him, they can surely try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2! Sorry I'm posting it so late! (I wrote most of this during class, whoops...)
> 
> In all honesty, I think Kite is slowly becoming one of my favorite MCs to write with? They've got an interestingly layered perspective and narrative that I'm just slowly discovering, and it's really neat!


	3. Day 3 — Dawn/Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 (Dawn/Midnight) — Yué-Lian knew the road forward was never going to be easy.

Yué-Lian pushed the bedroom door closed behind herself and yawned, the dim edges of the room seeming to swim slightly before her tired eyes. It wasn't as though as she'd ever been much in the habit of making half-past midnight her regular bedtime, but ever since her siblings ( _those of them left alive_ ) had come to live with she and Clarmont, someone needed to take care of Hào and Mīn when they had nightmares, or tend to Xián's bruises and scrapes. Someone had to make sure to keep Xiāo and Orion's secret safe from even the staff, because this way the only ones who would risk being punished for defending her brother and his lover would be she and her husband — not any innocents.

She didn't want anyone more to suffer for such things as her mistakes ever again.

Tonight, it had been Mīn again, sleepless and terrified that the house would burn once more if he closed his eyes. Because he and Bì had been twins and still young, they (and Hào) had shared a room — Yué had an awful feeling he'd still been in the house when his sister died. Had probably even tried to go back for her — they'd been all but inseparable when they were small, like two halves of a whole, and he seemed to be taking her loss the hardest.

Not for the first time, Yué found herself wishing she could have somehow seen this coming — somehow protected her siblings from all of this. They didn't deserve to be punished for their parents poor choices, and even less so for her own.

"That's a heavy expression, love."

Yué gasped, pressing one hand to her chest to calm her surprise and glancing ruefully across the room. "Clar, I thought you were _asleep!_ Don't startle me like that!" As her eyes adjusted to the darkness and registered where he was seated, she frowned. "And why are you still at your desk — without a light! I'm amazed your eyes haven't gone, the number of times I find you writing in the dark like this."

He laughed, the soft crinkling at the corners of his eyes imperceptible in the darkness but surely there all the same. "You've caught me, I'm afraid. Would it appease your worry, Yué, if I said I was waiting for you to return?"

The tension left her in a rush and she sighed, shoulders drooping as she crossed the room to drape her dressing-gown over one of the window-seat pillows. "You know you don't have to do that. I'm hardly going to disappear between now and the dawn."

"I know." And there was the smile, honest and disarming, that she had first been so enraptured by at the Summit. "But I must admit, I enjoy falling asleep with you by my side far more than doing so alone." When she didn't respond, he stood and joined her by the window, one strong arm resting gently (always gentle, and always light enough that she could pull away if she wanted to — a luxury Yué had never known she desired) around her waist. "What was it tonight?"

"Mīn had another nightmare about the fire." She leaned into the embrace, resting her head against his shoulder and patiently resisting the urge to cry. "He and Bì were twins, you know, and since they shared a room—"

"I see."

Yué managed a single, shaky inhale before the tears broke through and she had to hide her face in the sleeve of Clarmont's nightshirt. "I'm just so _angry_ , Clar. They were just children — Bì was only _eleven_ , Guì was going to go study music in Jiyel. I haven't even told Avalie yet that she doesn't have to find an apprenticeship for her anymore. And Jī — she was going to start courting soon! That poor boy, he's probably still waiting for her next letter, I don't know if anyone's _told_ him — and I _can't_ yet, because if they realize we knew before someone official sends word then— then my dear siblings, my children,  _they'll—_ "

"Shh, shh, it's alright." Clarmont shifted so they were standing face-to-face, his arms wrapping tight around her shoulders and her face pressed against his chest. "I know, Yué. I know. I'm so _sorry,_ love. Let's get some sleep — the staff can take care of the children until the morning. Oh, love. It'll be alright."

Gently (always so _gently_ ), he lifted her into his arms, crossing the room back to their shared bed. Although Revaire wasn't as religiously conservative as Arland, it was still a common practice among nobles for husbands and wives to sleep in separate chambers. The Baron had ensured they had adjoining bedrooms, with a door between them that didn't lock — she had rarely slept well there, _with_ or _without_ his company. Prior to their marriage, Clarmont had asked if she wished to have her own private rooms, but she'd asked instead if they could share. After all, being near him felt so much safer than being alone.

Now, they laid down together as he pulled drapes closed around them, and she rubbed ruefully at her teary cheeks before leaning back into the pillows. "It always seems so silly, going to sleep this late when we both know we'll be awake nearly with the sun anyways."

"And yet," Laying back beside her, Clarmont tugged the covers up and chuckled. "I seem to recall someone adamantly refusing to sleep in."

"No matter how much your staff might believe it, Clar, if the rest of the country doesn't see me putting in just as much work as you do— they'll make the same conclusions as always." Yué frowned, the words a bitter taste in her mouth. "That I'm nothing more than an exotic decoration to be shown off."

There was silence for a few moments before Clarmont rolled onto his side to rest the palm of one hand against her cheek, expression stern in the dim light. "Yué, who's said that?"

"What do you— oh, no-one _here_ , don't worry." She traced her fingers across the back of his hand for a moment before turning to look up at the underside of the canopy. "No, it's— had you really not heard? I assumed you were just being polite, not mentioning it, but—"

"Mentioning what, Yué?"

"That I'm a freak of nature." She sighed, slightly relieved when he didn't immediately respond. "It's why the Baron married me — I was _unusual_. Something he could show off to the court as an indication of his wealth. My parents thought it was so lucky — he offered much more than a normal dowry for me."

Her husband's voice was quiet when he finally spoke. "You're saying he _bought_ you? Because you were—"

"Exotic, unusual, whichever you prefer." It was an old pain, so talking about it didn't hurt nearly as much as it once had. "Of course, my parents were going to agree no matter what — they thought I was _bad luck_ — but the amount he offered certainly helped speed things along. Otherwise, they might have waited until I was a bit older." She paused, a thought striking her. "I was _fourteen_ at the time, did you know? Barely Xiāo's age. But I thought, if it would help my family, that would make it worth it."

She laughed bitterly. "I don't think they _ever_ cared about what it was like for me — my parents, that is. They just saw the money."

"Yué—"

"But that's the past." Breathing in deeply, Yué turned to face Clarmont once more, drinking in the sight of his tousled hair and concerned eyes. "And it can't hurt me now. I have you, I have my brothers and my sister. I have— I have _friends_ , now. I hadn't had any before. So it's— knowing that I can go to sleep beside you, and have you still here when dawn arrives— that's enough."

The smile that crept across his face, she thought, would put the sun to shame. "Then I'm glad to be here beside you, Yué." Under the covers, he pulled her closer, until their heads rested on the same pillow and she could wrap her arms around his back. Feel their hearts beating together, in every place they touched and in his lips when he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

And in the morning, when dawn broke and the birds began to sign — they'd still be there, together. Her family, broken and healing and both smaller and larger than ever, would still be there.

For now, that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yay! Sorry this is so late, folks. I kind of forgot about it for half the day... whoops!
> 
> This is actually a fairly direct follow-up to one of the prompts from last year's 7kpp week (Day 6, to be precise), so reading that might help with the context for this! :) It's post-Summit, but huzzah no spoilers for actual in-game stuff other than the widow background.


	4. Day 4 — Nostalgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 (Nostalgia) — When the Princess was young, and neither of them had to worry about things like duty and fate, they had played hide-and-seek among the roses.

“Do you remember the rose gardens at the palace?”

Beside her, Emmett laughed softly, smile as bright as ever. "You mean, do I remember getting so lost in them that your parents sent out the guards to find us? That gave me quite the scare, you know — I thought they weren't going to let me see you ever again, Id— Princess."

"Oh, seriously, just call me Ida. I like that better anyways." Rolling her eyes, Ida Tallia (of the throne of Arland) leaned back on her hands and kicked her feet out in front of her, waving those excessively pointy-toed shoes out at the gardens in front of them in a manner that was distinctly un-princess-like. "And I was more thinking of just— y'know, how they smelled and whatnot. When we'd go out and take tea, and Sister Constance sometimes joined us—"

"And pretended she wasn't enjoying it just as much as we were, of course."

Ida giggled. "Exactly. It would be terribly improper, enjoying a child's tea party. Connie would _never_."

"Of course not." Emmett smothered a grin in his own teacup, the tray perched precariously on the wall of the gazebo between them. "Imagine what the people would say, if they knew the Crown Princess could have fun! Or worse, indulge her favorite sister."

"I'm her _only_ sister, though."

He shrugged. "Well, at the time, nobody knew that. Wasn't your mother pregnant that year?"

Grimacing, Ida bit into a teacake with a bit more force than necessary, and stuck out her tongue at the small blob of jelly it had expelled onto her fingers. "Ugh, that's right. I mean, don't get me wrong — I knew it was a good thing, especially since it turned out to be a son, but still... it was like nobody even remembered I was there, y'know?" Sucking the offending filling off of her hand before licking it clean, she frowned out at the greenery in front of them. "Connie was Crown Princess, so of course she had her studies and her tutors and all her preparations for everything. Mom was pregnant, so she needed all that care and attention, and then once Felix was born he was the _Crown Prince—_ "

She sighed. "And then there was _me_ — the extra princess nobody really wanted to deal with. It's like, for a year or two they just forgot about me."

"Well," A gentle hand pressed against her own. "At least we got to spend a lot of time together, right? Whether it was getting lost in the rose gardens, or racing down the halls—"

"—in _stockings_ , and weren't the maids angry!" Ida laughed, cheeks dimpling and flushing rose-colored in delight. "I suppose you're right, Em. It wasn't all that bad, with you there."

Now it was Emmett's turn to turn pink in pleasure, as though honored to have been of such significance. "I'm glad."

For a few moments, they sat together in silence, sipping tea and admiring the golden-toned afternoon light. After the excitement of the previous week, it was nice to find these pockets of quiet when they appeared.

Presently, Emmett asked, "Why were you thinking about the rose garden?"

"Hm?" Pausing to swallow her tea, Ida traced back along her train of thought for an answer. "Oh— well, I was thinking about whether I'd be able to find any roses that could grow in Skalt. I know they have a lot of fascinating native flowers, but since I like roses so much—"

"Ah, that's right." Emmett took a thoughtful sip of tea. "I don't think it'll be possible, since roses don't do too well in cold climates, but you might be able to find some alpine relatives with a similar phenotype or scent!" When she didn't seem convinced, he added with a grin, "And if you can't, I'm sure Princess Anaele would be more than happy to make sure you can at least get a _few_ from traders."

The rosy tint returned to Ida's cheeks, and she ducked her head in embarrassment. "But it's so— it's such a _silly_ request! There's no practicality to it! Why would Ana ever agree to that?"

"Because she loves you?"

"Okay, that's— _fine_." She groaned, head tilted forward until it was nearly resting on her knees. Emmett just smiled, continuing to drink his tea as the sun sank imperceptibly lower in the sky.

After a few moments, Ida lifted her face just enough to look sideways at her childhood friend nervously. "You're really okay with it?"

"With what?"

"Me being— and Ana and I being—" She bit her lip, cheeks still pink and brows furrowed. "You don't think it's something _awful_ , that I'm marrying a woman? I mean, if Father heard..."

"Well, she's a Crown Princess, so I don't think he'll be as angry as he would've been if you were marrying someone like me." The words were frank, said without any note of bitterness or sting. "And you know, I learned a lot when I was traveling— not _just_ about plants, either." He smiled warmly at her, eyes soft and bluer than the sky behind them. "As far as I'm concerned, God makes everyone unique and special in their own ways, and He loves them all the same. He made you as you are for a reason, and I think—"

A slight flush returned to his cheeks, and he turned back to look at the horizon thoughtfully. "Well, I think as long as this path makes you _happy_ , then there's no way I could ever find ill in it. You know?"

For a few moments, Ida just stared at him, eyes slightly watery. Then—

"Wh— oh, the— the tea! Oh no, the staff will—"

"There are bushes, none of it's broken."

"But if someone gets the wrong idea—"

"Emmett, just let me hug you, _screw_ other people's ideas!"

"... Hey, it's alright, you don't have to cry."

" _Who's crying, idiot._ "

And then, a few moments later, under the golden hues of the setting sun—

"... Thanks, Em."

"Of course. What else are friends for?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another late one... whoops. I'll try to get tomorrow's done with more speed!
> 
> (just to make entirely certain — this is Hella Platonic. Ida's on Ana's romance path.)

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! It's 7KPP Week again! I'm so excited! I've been a bit bogged down with school, but I'm going to do my best to get all of these posted in a timely fashion! Wish me luck!! :3


End file.
